Cinders
by Nuclear Eggs
Summary: It was the last night of the carnival. The knife burned in Miku's hand, and it was almost midnight. Based off of Cendrillon. Luka/Miku oneshot.


Once, there was a girl of fifteen who lived in the woods with her father. The house they lived in was shabby, so most of what the girl did was clean and keep the place in as good repair as she could. She was young, but she knew how to clean just as well as anyone else, and she loved her father dearly. They were once nobility, but after a disastrous string of misfortunes, they lost their title, wealth, and land.

The girl lost her mother too, she died when the girl was too young to remember - the only image she had of her in her mind's eye was that of a beautiful and frail woman who often sat by the window and stared outside at the gardens of the estate. Her mother had loved the winter, had flourished in it. Things around her bloomed in the snow, as though she held magic in her fingertips. That was all the girl could remember.

After her mother's death, the girl's father mourned for months. Then, one day, as the girl was scrubbing at some pots, he walked out of his room dressed finer than he had in days. The girl stopped her scrubbing and stared. She had not seen her father in such dress since the old days. Although the clothes were looser now, her father noticeably thinner, they were still fine, well-made clothes. For a brief instant he looked like the man he was years ago.

"I will be going out," he told the girl. "Please be patient. There is bread in the basement, and eggs, and everything you could want to eat. If I am not back in seven days and seven nights, look in the first drawer of my cabinet and you will find a letter detailing what needs to be done."

The girl nodded. She hugged her father and bid him farewell.

Seven days and seven nights passed without incident, the girl eating through the stock of food in the basement. On the eighth day, her father had not yet arrived, and the girl walked over to the cabinet and opened the first drawer. Inside was a letter, just as her father said.

The girl read the letter five times to commit it to memory, and she wept. The house was dark and quiet, there was a sweeping chill that signaled the beginning of winter, and her father was surely dead.

When she was done, she got up and went to an old chest in a darkened corner of the room. She followed the letter's orders mechanically. Within the chest, there was a mask and a knife. The knife felt hot in her hands, like fire through its sheath, even though it surely had not been used in years. It belonged to her mother, the letter had said, and her mother's blood runs through her. The mask, too, was imbued with her mother's essence. All that was required was a drop of blood from the girl's finger with the burning knife, and time, for this must all be done, said the letter, before midnight of the final night of Carnival.

-o-o-o-

Every night of Carnival season was full of revelry, but the final night was when the ante is upped and the city bursts into a mad suffusion of color and bacchanalia. People spilled out of homes dressed and appropriately masked, for tonight was the night of the long-awaited masquerade ball at the senator's mansion located at the heart of the city. Not that that prevented people from celebrating in the streets too, of course. The air was crisp and smelled of cider and wine, the streets full of laughter, the jingle of bells, the stamping of feet. It was the night when the daughters of nobility, matured, made their debut in the public sphere, and it was the night when all cares were tossed to the wind, when all slights were perceived as pranks, for nothing bad, it was said, could ever happen on the final night of Carnival.

-o-o-o-

The knife was cool against her burning fingertips, long and sharp and deadly. She was trembling as she glanced up at the clock tower, its face as white as the moon. There was time, plenty of time, to find her. It should not be difficult. The Megurines were a prominent and important family, and it would only follow that their oldest daughter would be just as prominently and importantly displayed on this festival night. Miku pressed her back against the cool white wall to calm herself. It was cold, the second half of winter now, but she was hot. A quick breath, and she put on the black mask that covered all her face save her eyes, the piece of enchantment she needed before midnight.

Miku stilled her hands and slid the knife into its sheath, concealed within the folds of her black cloak. One more glance at the clock, and she was gone.

-o-o-o-

The Megurine family had risen to prominence not so long ago, the details of which Luka was hazy on. She had been young then. What she remembered was their old home, a small merchant household with a red door and a rose-scented garden. Back then, things had been simpler. Her father did not need to leave all the time to see important men, and her mother had been home a lot more often too. Ever since her family's fortunes had changed, the Megurines on the upswing, a prominent name on everyone's lips, all of that disappeared. Her father went to the Senate more and more often, dined at homes of influential and powerful nobles, her mother painting her face with lead that both sickened her skin and made her even more beautiful.

As for Luka, whereas once she was a shy young girl who preferred the company of books to the company of people, now she had been well-trained by an army of tutors to become a well-mannered socialite. She had long since lost the time to open a book, her days taken up by brunches and balls.

But despite all that, or perhaps because, her life seemed dull and flat - it was all the same, day after day, and Luka was dreadfully bored. The fact that tonight would be the night that she made her official debut as the heiress to the Megurine fortune (since when, thought Luka, had they a fortune?) made hardly a ripple in the dull pool of her heart. It wasn't as though Luka was new to parties; her parents had made sure that she had attended each and every one they went to, ever since she was a child, ever since the fortunes of their family bloomed. This one would be much like the others - full of honeyed speech and dances, full of eager young suitors.

Luka was sick of it.

"Come on, Luka!" Gumi said from behind her, peering intently into the mirror, brushing out her delicate ruffled dress. "It's our first masquerade ball. Be excited!"

Luka rolled her eyes. "What's the difference between this ball and every other ball?"

"What's the..." Gumi sounded as though Luka had just spoken some blasphemy, and she whirled around to face her friend. "It's the most prominent ball of the year! You'll be making your official debut into high society!"

Luka sighed and picked up her mask, an ornate columbina, fitting it around her eyes. "I guess. It doesn't really mean anything. I've been to parties."

Gumi heaved a sigh. "You just don't understand. Maybe you'll meet someone tonight!"

Luka laughed. "Meet someone? Why would I meet someone?"

"Well, historically, the masquerade ball is a romantic one, isn't it?"

"Sure, if by romantic you mean 'lust-filled'..." Luka had heard enough stories of the drunken debauchery, the boldness afforded by the anonymity of the masks, to be rid of such romantic delusions. "You have to be careful with these kinds of parties, Gumi."

Gumi blushed. "I am careful."

"Of course you are," Luka checked herself in the mirror. The mask did an exceptionally poor job of hiding her face, though she supposed that its purpose was not to hide her identity, but rather, to highlight it. The mask fit around her face, accentuated her high cheekbones, the twined gold rimming and intricate patterns that danced around it emphasizing her family's wealth. It was loud, ostentatious, and perfect for the bacchanalia of tonight. Luka stared at it a while longer, and then sighed, took it off, and reached for another mask - a discreet white half-mask.

"What are you doing?" Gumi asked, staring as Luka pushed the ornate columbina away. Her nose wrinkled. "You can't wear that to your coming out! You look like some kind of phantom."

"I'm not coming out this party," said Luka. "It's a masquerade. I'm going to hide."

Gumi was silent for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't understand you sometimes, Luka."

Luka grinned. "This should buy me a little time before I get recognized." She got up. "Well then, shall we go?"

-o-o-o-

She did not expect the city to be so big, and for a while, she wandered among the crowd, wary and weary. She did not know what her target looked like, but she knew how prominent she was. It was certain that she would be surrounded by people.

Soon Miku's gaze alighted on a girl wearing a simple white half-mask and, in sharp contrast to that, a dress so fine it almost seemed a crime to wear it out where it could get dirty. The girl's hair was thick, long, and a startling shade of pink. At the sight of her, Miku's eyes widened and her chest grew warm. The pink-haired girl was easily the most beautiful person Miku had seen in her life. Accompanying her was a green-haired girl who was talking energetically about something, waving her arm in the direction of a bakery.

Before Miku could do anything, however, the pink-haired girl seemed to notice her, for her gaze rested on Miku for a brief moment. It was an almost physical sensation, one that passed too fast, for the pink-haired girl gave only a polite smile in MIku's general direction before she turned away to talk to her green-haired friend. Miku felt an unfamiliar stab of something in her heart. She didn't like, not at all, how close the two of them were. Even though she didn't even know the pink-haired girl, the sight of her standing so close to the green-haired one made her want to scream.

But no. Miku took a deep breath of the cold air. She had to stay focused. She had to find Luka Megurine and take revenge, for her father's sake, for her family's sake. She bit the button that held the mask to her face harder, but not hard enough to break it, and looked around. This party would be the one that Luka Megurine was scheduled to come out at, her first real introduction to society, so there would definitely be a lot of fanfare. However, there was none. Perhaps Miku wasn't yet close enough to the main festivities.

It was then that Miku hit upon an idea. She could get closer to her target and meet this pink-haired girl in one fell swoop - simply, Miku could talk to her, ask her where the mansion of the senator was, and then walk with her along the way. That was all she needed. Having lived in the woods all her life, Miku had no conception of there being anything more than that.

The decision made, Miku approached the pink-haired girl.

-o-o-o-

It was working fine, so far. Most people were too caught up in their own revelries to take notice of her, and since Luka had not technically been introduced to society yet, no one would truly recognize her by face. She was clearly Megurine due to the color of her hair, but there were many Megurines nowadays, aunts and uncles and cousins, once, twice, three times removed from far-off villages hoping to cash in on the success of Luka's father somehow. No one gave her a glance, save for one peculiar teal-haired girl in a black mask that covered all of her face save for her eyes. Luka had glanced at her, but the girl's presence was so unobtrusive Luka soon lost interest. Just one of the many sights of Carnival.

"That place has the most amazing pandoro," Gumi was saying, eyes fixed on a bakery across from them. "Do you want to get som-"

"Excuse me," said a clear, sweet voice, and Gumi blinked, turned. "Could either of you two tell me where the center of this masquerade is?"

Luka looked back. There was the girl she had seen earlier, holding her mask carefully in her hand so as to prevent it from falling off. She was thin and slight, dressed in a simple black cloak over a similarly black dress - quite a contrast against Luka's own white garb.

"The center of the masquerade?" Gumi said. "It's at the heart of the city, of course. Where are you from?"

The girl shifted, seemingly uncomfortable with the question, and shrugged artlessly. Her every move seemed unstudied. Something in Luka's heart stirred. In this city of pretense, the girl's simple and easy to read movements were refreshing. Luka held out a hand.

"I'll take you," she said with a smile, before glancing over at Gumi. "I'll take her."

Gumi looked at the girl, and then at Luka. "She...your type?" Gumi squinted. "Can't even see her face."

"What? I'm just showing her to the mansion," said Luka. Her hand was still outstretched. The girl was staring at it as though it was a foreign creature.

Gumi laughed. "I'm just kidding. Well, I'll leave you to it, then. I'm not going to play guide when I can have fun. I'll see you around."

"See you," said Luka with a smile, and Gumi departed. It was only then when the strange girl took Luka's hand. The touch of it was electric; the girl's skin was so hot, even though it was winter. Luka shivered a little.

"So what's your name?" Luka asked.

The girl looked as though she was smiling under the mask. "We aren't supposed to unmask ourselves."

Luka grinned. "I forget. Not before midnight, right?"

At that, a brief shadow passed over the girl's eyes, and when she replied, it was quiet, barely audible over the noise and revelry of the streets. "Not before midnight."

-o-o-o-

"Well then," said Luka, "here we are, at the mansion. Hard to miss, since the big clock tower is here too."

"Ah," murmured the girl. "That's convenient."

"It is, isn't it? We'll know exactly when to reveal ourselves," said Luka. As the two of them walked, Luka had tried hard to ascertain the girl's features, but her face was so well-covered by the mask that all Luka could see were her teal eyes.

The girl nodded, her eyes flickering around the city center.

"Looking for someone?" Luka asked, and the girl tore her eyes back towards Luka with a jolt.

"O-oh, no," she said. "I was...just looking." She turned away from Luka, her movements suddenly agitated, her arms sneaking back into her own cloak. "It's...this is a beautiful city."

Luka looked at where the girl was looking. She could see, in the distance, the quiet waters of the sea beyond the white walls of the city, the winding canals that led to it. "I suppose it is," she said. "You haven't been here very often then, I assume."

The girl laughed, a clear bell's jingle in the cool night air. "It's my first time," she said. "I stay home, most of the time."

"What do you do at home?"

"Chores," said the girl. "Cleaning. Cooking. Things of that sort."

Luka raised an eyebrow. If that was truly what the girl did, then that explained her unstudied mannerisms, her wonder of the city. A commoner from a nearby village, perhaps, though how did a commoner come to obtain such a mask, such a cloak, such a dress? But Luka shrugged it off; such things could be made. Perhaps she was the daughter of some minor tailor. Either way, it didn't matter.

"What do you do at home?" the girl asked Luka.

Luka smiled. "I do absolutely nothing."

"Oh?" the girl said. "That sounds boring."

"It is..." Luka trailed off. The girl's eyes kept looking at the clock, and then at the crowd. "Are you sure you're not looking for something? I can help you find it."

The girl snapped her eyes away. "No, it's...it's fine," she sounded flustered.

"If you say so..." Luka glanced at the clock. It was eleven. One more hour, then, before she would have to be revealed as Luka Megurine. One more hour before she could finally see the girl's face, and know her name. "Would you like to dance with me?"

"Dance?" the girl said the word as though it was foreign. "I've, um, never danced before."

Luka took her hand, felt the heat of it warm her own. "I'll teach you."

-o-o-o-

Time was running out.

Miku was enjoying herself, but time was running out. It was now half past eleven, and she still had not located the one she had to kill. But at the same time, she didn't want to leave the pink-haired girl, not until she knew her name. However, at twelve, Miku had to go. The enchantment that was holding her rags together, the magic that served as her mask, would wear off by then, and it would become at once apparent who she truly was. The knife would become clay, useless and formless, and her father's death would have meant nothing.

The pink-haired girl was well-versed in the ways of the city; her mannerisms were cosmopolitan, and she carried herself with an elegance and grace that Miku could only admire. There were people such as these in the city? Having lived in the woods, Miku knew nothing of such things, but she knew that the girl was beautiful. She could not give a name to anything else she was feeling, but she wanted to stay with her. During the dance, Miku's skin felt hotter than even before, as though she was burning up with fever.

The girl noticed this, she must have, for she stopped dancing. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Miku asked, dazed by the whirling dance that left her feet feeling tingly and light, by the heat webbing through her fingers, by the girl before her.

"You're burning up," the girl said, clasping Miku's hands between hers. "Do you want to rest?"

Miku glanced around. Where was Luka? Miku had to...she had to...the knife burned against her hip, so hot it felt as though it would scald her skin, burn through her cloak, reveal her as who she truly was. "I...I need to..."

The girl looked at her for a moment before shaking her head. "Come with me," she said, and Miku allowed herself to be dragged along.

The two of them went to a house, lavish and large and rich, the floor marble, the house itself next to the sea. It was immaculately white, so clean and pure that Miku's black dress looked like a stain trailing along it. The girl took her to a small side room, where there was a couch and a fire, and sat her down.

"Where are we?" asked Miku.

"My house," said the girl. "I thought...you needed the rest."

Her house? Miku groped for her watch, found it, flicked it open. It was fifteen minutes before midnight.

"Oh my god," Miku whispered. The knife grew even hotter, the heat vindictive. It would leave a burn against her skin now unless Miku acted soon.

The girl glanced at the time without much interest. "Oh. It is almost midnight, isn't it?"

"Yes," Miku croaked, and tried to get up. "I. I need to go. Now. I have to. Before midnight."

"What? With a fever like this?" the girl was shaking her head. So concerned, but for all the wrong reasons. "No. What you need is rest."

"You don't understand," Miku said, the words rushing out of her. "I came here to find someone. I need to...I..."

"Who is it?" the girl asked. "I can find them for you."

The name slipped out before Miku could stop it. "Luka...Megurine."

-o-o-o-

At the sound of her own name, Luka's eyes widened. What? Why would this girl be looking for her? "Why?"

But the girl was shaking her head, retreating, visibly agitated. "Nothing. No reason."

"No, I...it's okay," Luka soothed, putting her hands on the girl's thin arms. She marveled at how fragile she was. She was so delicate, she reminded Luka of some rare and precious bird. "I'm Luka Megurine. See? You found me." Luka smiled.

Far from looking happy, however, the girl looked only horrified, her eyes widening, so wide Luka could see the whites. "No," said the girl. "That can't be."

"Why not? Not everyone has hair like this," Luka gestured at her pink hair. "What's your name, then?"

"...Miku Hatsune," said the girl, her voice as soft as down.

Hatsune. The word rung some long ago memory. Hatsune. It sounded so familiar...Luka had heard her father speaking the name, a long time ago, but under what context, she couldn't remember.

"That's a beautiful name," said Luka with a smile, trying to reassure her somehow, anyhow. Gently, she took off Miku's mask. The black material was smooth and cool against her fingers, like silk. She let it fall to the floor.

Underneath the mask, Miku looked young, a little younger than Luka if Luka had to guess, her features finely formed, a hint of nobility in them, mixed with some odd sense of wildness that Luka couldn't quite place. Luka took off her own mask, laid her forehead against Miku's. The girl was burning, as though she contained some fire inside.

"What are you, Miku?" Luka asked. "Why were you trying to find me?"

Miku was trembling under Luka's forehead. She was so fragile. Out of some instinct, half-thought, half-formed, Luka kissed her.

It was chaste, despite the heat from Miku's skin, a brush of the lips, but it was addictive all the same. Luka leaned in again.

"Wait," Miku whispered against Luka's lips. "Please."

Luka waited, and the clock struck twelve. The bells rung in the house, and Miku stiffened for a brief moment before quickly, wildly pulling Luka in for a kiss, though it was less a kiss than a desperate movement, some grasp for salvation, one that Luka tried her best to return until she felt pain explode in her chest, until she felt wetness against her cheeks, until she saw that Miku's clothes had somehow transformed into rags.

"I'm sorry," Miku sobbed. "I'm sorry."

Luka didn't understand. Her mind felt frozen. All she could do was stare at the knife in her chest, at the blossoming scarlet spread in her chest. Miku spread her fingers over the red, felt the erratic, stuttering, final beats of Luka's heart, caressed Luka's cheek with the other. Strange; her skin felt normal to the touch now, her fever having faded away.

"I didn't know," Miku said. The hand over Luka's heart drew away; it looked burned, but that could have merely been the blood, for what could have burned Miku's hand so badly in this time?

Luka's throat worked, uselessly. Her heart gave a few more labored pumps. The world was spinning away, spiraling. All Luka could see was Miku, and Miku leaned in, kissed Luka's cooling lips. Luka's body was immobilized, pinned to the couch. There was red everywhere - red, and white, and black.

It was almost like, she thought dimly, a fairy tale.


End file.
